home is where the house is (or isn't)

how about a little in-progress reporting?
an acorn in the grasp of a springtime forest spirit ghost.
holding history in one hand, teeth in the other,
and keeping his brimstoney hot fire breath well-cooled with a peppery mint.
what's up with that third hand?
well,
that's a wizard's mystical mitt,
conjuring the whole thing with a wave.
word.


the partial-body of a soul-singin' pop-and-lock bobot battle-bard.
he's gonna have wings, too.
i found some pearlescent paint.
it's sparkle-magical.
and sparkle + magic + spirits + memories = dope.
i've got a couple more days to finish these fellas,
and then even the arthur-makin' supplies get boxed up.
hard styles, kids.
times is tough,
i'm sayin';
-when the going gets tough,
the tough eat a lot of treats,
and read dungeons & dragons novels,
then get busy doing easy things.
we'd get going, too,
but as yet,
with less than a month to get out of here,
and into somewhere else,
we still have nowhere to go.
that's some harsh realm reality.
as such,
arthur-making has been in full swing instead.
the other available options are less appealing.
packing up all your sh!t,
just to move to ____ ,
is molto turbo lame.
i don't even know where ____ is!
i know it's a big blank spot, though,
and it doesn't seem like it's very dog-friendly, either....
is the woodsly goodness trying to evict us?
can it not handle our infinite eleveny natures?
if so,
what are we gonna do?
where are we gonna go?
how can we make this work?
i sure as sh!t don't have those answers.
but i DO know that is some undue and doo-doo buttery stressfulness.
this must be one of those times;
the ones where the ability to believe in secret universal plans gets put on blast.
if i knew how it was going to end, though,
the plan wouldn't be secret, now would it?
we've got to move,
but instead we're mostly making moves....
the irony is frustrating.

in willfully unimpeded other news,
does anybody know where to get some antique-ish barber or dentist chairs?
i need two.
that way,
when i'm turned out onto the streets,
or forced into for-real homeless hermitage somewhere in the woods,
i can still maintain my hair, beard, and teeth in a gentlemanly fashion.
one does what one must, in any and all circumstances, mutha-uckas....
and,
when the plan eventually works itself out,
i'll have a pair of powder-coated and re-upholstered manly
butt-bolsterers to hold up the heinies of all ya'll peoples
who want to make the pilgimage to the woodsly goodness.
c'mon, ya'll,
find 'em and bind 'em and i'll come get 'em.....

cold, wet, and dreary,
and the weather is too.
never quiet, never soft.....